Leona Stark
by Arwen Ravenwood
Summary: The eldest daughter of house stark has always known her own mind, and her own heart. A heart which belongs to one of her father's household. But what shall happen to them when the south, and all it's troubles, enslave the Starks to a painful future once more; Will the name still stand? will their love? They have always sworn to be together, let us hope fate works in their favour...
1. Chapter 1

Riding across the frost, Winterfell was a distance behind me, with the morning early and my family still soundly sleeping. If any did wake to discover me gone and my bedsheets cold, it did not take a genius to figure where I'd be if not the castle. I was a wolf after all, and I ached for the outdoors. To feel the wind hitting my skin, as I am undeterred by the climate we endure here in the north.

However, they wouldn't know exactly where I would be, or more accurately who I would be with.

With my body moving in rhythm with the horse, I came under a forests canopy, where the leaves rustled wildly with the wind. I was aware of being watched by all manner of creatures here, from the humble beetle to the proud stag and I slowed down to a gentle trot as I neared my destination.

The horse's breath steamed from his nose as he snorted, his strong legs having been worked long and hard since I exited through the gates. swinging down from its high back, I retrieved an apple I had taken from the kitchens, offering the horse the shiny, red fruit in the palm of my hand. The horse tickled my skin as he devoured it whole, and I smiled, stroking its head. I didn't bother to tie the beast up, I had trained it well enough, so that if I whistled he would come to me directly and without distraction.

Satisfied, I meandered through the shrubs, watching to make sure I did not trip over any branches, or have my face scratched. It was a thick growth and took some force, but as I made it through the other side, it had been well worth the fight with nature.

As cold as the north was, you just had to know where to look in order to seek some warmth. And that warmth came in the form of hot spring waters, pooled deeply in the ground, and better than climbing into any fresh bath.

I was cautious not to make any fallen foliage crunch beneath my feet, hoisting my skirts above my knees, as I came to the edge of the pools bank. I slunk down low, peering over, and felt my heart practically skip a beat when I saw a strapping figure below.

From the waist down, his body waded in the water so I had only his bare chest to appreciate, which I didn't mind in the least. Those hours spent sword training with my brother had done him wonders over the years, and every movement, no matter how small, emphasized just how well his muscles were sculpted.

When we were children, he had not been so handsome, his features were gaunt from being so skinny and they had been hidden away by his mop of dark brown hair, but by thirteen that was when he really started to fill out, and became the man he was. Now his bone structure did not look so skeletal as it had, and as he continues to age, so did it become all the more striking as more of his inner beauty showed upon his face.

I was glad to say though, that the softness in his dark irises had always been there, as well as the gentleness in his smile, and it was those attributes to his character, which have forever drawn me to him.

He had not noticed my arrival yet, and I scraped the dirt aside with my fingers harvesting a pebble. Cleaning it some, I took my aim and with a fine throw, ducked to hide from his view as his complaint of pain, erupted.

"fuck!" he shouted more than once.

I didn't bother to stifle my laugh and perched myself up, to see him clutching the back of his head and wearing a bemused grin.

"now that was a perfect shot if you ask me," I remarked.

He winced, checking his hand for a spot of blood, "aye, not bad at all; for a woman."

I glared at him, and ushered down the bank quickly, making grooves in the earth, and skidded to a stop.

He had watched me all the way down and walked closer, sending ripples my way to tease the toes of my boots.

Without hesitating, I kicked the two off and paired them together so as not to lose them, and cautious of his stare, I bent down slowly and grabbed the ends of my cotton dress. With one swift motion, I wasn't clad in the fabric for long, feeling my long black hair hit against my naked back as I dropped the dress atop my shoes, biting my lips as my spectator growled with desire.

In a rasping tone, he asked, "tell me fair maid, does your father know you are out here?"

With the cold air perking me up, I stepped into the water and stood face to face with him.

"no, he does not," I leaned in so my breath touched his lips, "nor did he know the time before that, nor the time before that…"

His eyes had closed shut and he rocked his head against mine, "Gods, it's been too long Leona."

And I could not have agreed more, cupping the hand he had cradled around my neck, "then don't waste any more time my love; My Lucan."

With the sound of his name rolling of my tongue, he obeyed my asking and let me taste his need, as his mouth claimed mine desperately and our bodies gripped the other tightly, so that no space was spared between us. We were no strangers to this kind of intimacy, but each time we were in the midst of such passion, we search and linger at each and every crevice, as if we had not been there before, with our souls loving each other as much as our bodies, even when caught between those moments where we are intoxicated by our climax, savouring it for as long as we could, so we had something to think back on at night, when we were alone.

…..

As the sun climbed the sky higher, turning our early morning into late, we became still, savouring these final embraces before we had to part, and spend the rest of the day treating each other as was customary, I a lady of the house Stark, while Lucan was a companion of sorts to my brother Robb and nephew to Sir Rodrick, Winterfell's master at arms.

I hated the secrecy; hated not being able to kiss him when I wanted to, which, granted, was each time I saw him. But we had this to work to our advantage. I was Eddard Starks eldest daughter, and I have forever doted upon my father, as he did me, and because we were so closely bonded, I made him vow that I could marry any man of my choosing. I was wilful and headstrong, he could not deny me this, and nor could my mother, since she had lost her influence regarding my life as soon as I was able to speak.

They knew about me and Lucan of course. We both had told them and have been promised to each other ever since then, however, my parents, more under my mother's command rather than my fathers, have made us wait until my sister, Sansa, could find a good enough match which they hoped would mask my 'inferior one.' So far they have slacked in their search, and sansa remains unmarried, thus we have not been able to keep at bay our desire.

At that, Lucan kissed the nape of my neck, "marry me."

We were promised, that was true, an engagement that meant more to us than it did anyone else, but still he asks me and has done repeatedly, urging me to give up my want for my parents blessing and just run off to elope. It was a tempting scheme, tempting indeed, only I did very much love them, and it meant something to me if they could find it in themselves, to accept my choice in suitor.

My parents trusted us to wait, and wait we shall.

I sighed, turning to take his chin between my fingers, "be patient my love; I'm not going anywhere."

I beamed up at him and tilted my toes to kiss his lips, leaving Lucan standing alone as I returned to my clothes and started to dress.

"I would wait until the ends of the earth for you," he called, "but if we continue as we are, then perhaps your mother and father might find a reason to hasten our marriage rather than delay it."

At his statement he eyed my stomach and grinned.

Instinctively, my hand trailed where perhaps his seed might have taken root, for the thought that I might discover I carry his child has crossed my mind and I did not discourage the situation.

Lucan as my husband and his children growing strong in my womb, that is all I have ever wanted, and what would make me happier than anything else in this world could.

Slipping my feet into my shoes, and swinging my damp hair off to the side, I replied, "pray by all the gods, that might come to pass. Until then, Lucan Cassel, we shall wait, with only the wind sharing in how deep our love goes."

He stared at me in wonder and it was with great difficulty that I broke from his trance and went up the way I came down, whistling to my horse and riding as fast as I had come, to avert the urge to turn back around and straight into Lucan's arms again, for if I did that, there would be nothing that could tear me away from them.

 _'_ _have faith,"_ I appealed to my restless soul, _'that fate will favour this Stark at least.'_


	2. Chapter 2

When Leona left, Lucan never knew quite what do so with himself. He just stood there staring at the spot where the wolf maid disappeared, willing her to appear again. She wouldn't, her duties excelled his as a noble lady, and she would be missed having breakfast with her family and catering to the girls, Sansa and Arya, while her mother kept the household in order. Besides Robb, and perhaps his uncle, no one would know he was gone.

Taking one last dive beneath the water, Lucan resurfaced and brushed his hands over his face to keep the water out his eyes, and made his way over to the clothes that were scattered around him carelessly. Hoisting his trousers over his legs, Lucan was sorry to leave this place. He was particularly fond of it for the many times he and Leona had spent enthralled with one another here. A place in the wood where they didn't have to be cautious of every kiss, while his hunger for her flesh could be tamed, with every thrust.

Leona Stark.

From the moment his uncle Rodrick had lifted his cloak to reveal his straggly self beneath, Lucan's eyes did not behold the stronghold's towering walls with awe, but kept them steady to the courtyard, where his ears, after capturing the sound of soft laughter, had told him to look when his sight was not masked. There he saw a young girl with waist long hair, that danced between rich shades of red and brown, playing with her father. Each time she moved her hair rippled in effect and she was wild. Lucan could tell that by the way her father was not afraid to toss her high into the air, and spun madly in circles, while she cried gleefully. He could have watched her fun all day if he could have, but his uncle disrupted it.

'My lord Eddard,' Rodrick had called, and the man, still carrying the girl, walked over to them with her on his shoulder.

This lord Eddard, he was quite fearsome in looks. A Northman through and through, but in company of his beloved child, his stern features did reflect the joy she inspired in his heart and for Lucan, this had made the Lord of Winterfell not so intimidating, that he wished to hide or shy from him.

'this is the nephew I had told you about. His mother's dead, and so is his father. He has only me left in the world.'

The Lord nodded, 'and with you he shall stay Rodrick. Does the boy have a name?'

Lucan had answered before his uncle, and the grown men looked down at him.

'Lucan is it?' Eddard asked, without taking insult from the boy's outspokenness, and he returned his daughter to ground.

'now little wolf, come say hello.'

When the object of Lucan's gaze was closer, he had thought her only more beautiful, and when at last she tore her face from looking up at her father, she beheld Lucan with eyes you wouldn't want, or ever could forget.

Two iris's framed with thick lashes, one was as grey as the snow clouds brewing overhead, and the other, was the vivid blue Lucan had always imagined the seas in Dorne to be like. Together they were a shocking contrast, but they did not take away her loveliness, only enhanced it if anything.

The wolf pup smiled sweetly, 'my name is Leona.'

And from that moment on, Lucan surrendered his heart to a daughter of Winterfell, unknowing that she, for the many years that they had grown up in each other's company, had given him her love too.

On that fateful night when Leona had confessed to him her feelings, before the old Gods and the new, Lucan would have married her then and there. However, she was loyal to her father, Eddard. The same as he. And because of that, neither of them wanted to start their marriage with deceit.

Thus, he did as she bade him, and that was too wait, as shit as the game was. And with his last few possessions in tow, Lucan haunted Leona's step and instead of turning back to Winterfell, he remained in the forest with an arrow drawn, ready to hunt.

…..

Riding home, the place was busier compared to when Lucan had left, with everyone going about their chores.

He gave his greeting's to some he passed and rode up to the stables where his grim faced uncle was waiting.

"Where have you been Lucan?"

Swinging down from his horse, Lucan led the beast further to where Rodrick was standing, choked by his fur collar. With a smile, he removed the rabbits hanging off his saddle and held their carcasses up for his uncle to see.

"Hunting," he declared.

The old man looked stern, "And that was more important than tending to your masters!"

"My masters" Lucan scoffed, unsaddling his horse and settling it in, until the next time he wished to ride, or be ridden. Lucan grinned to himself at the thought, answering his uncle, "now that is Very formal."

Sir Rodrick had been leaning on the stables gate and with one swift motion, Lucan whipped it out from under him. He faulted slightly and scorned the look on his nephew's face, covering his folly with another lecture.

"Yes, well you should remember, as close as you are with Robb and the others, they are still your superiors, and you should not take that for granted. You have certain obligations for example."

"Obligations," Lucan repeated, not knowing he had any. Well, none for him to take too seriously in any case, although his uncle thought different.

"Like to be a witness at an execution."

Confused, Lucan turned around sharply on his heel and Rodrick explained, "A deserter from the Nightswatch."

Leaning on a stone wall, there were some odd barrels around and he lifted the lid of one glimpsing at the apples within.

Retrieving the fruit, Lucan started tossing it between hands, "We Haven't had one of those in years."

Which was true enough. Lucan must have been eleven the last time he rode out with Lord Eddard and the others to see the deed be done. It had been his first execution and he would always remember it, with the man who passed the sentence swinging the sword.

"The boy had no wits. Kept rambling on about the white walkers. _Ridiculous_."

Lucan bit into his apple, thinking of the man living on a block of ice and hardly blaming him for going mad, he just didn't think it should have costed him his life. But no deserter received mercy, no matter the reason, for abandoning his vows.

He swallowed, "Then you have had an eventful morning uncle."

The old man grunted brushing a hand through his snowy whiskers, "And to top it all off, we have only gotten ourselves some new additions to the castle. Bloody Direwolves."

Having been rubbing his tongue across his teeth, Lucan froze and glared at his uncle, chuckling, "Now you're just going senile."

"Don't believe me," Rodrick dared, "go down to the kitchens and see for yourself. Each Stark child and the Snow boy as well, they all have a pup to name and feed."

Lucan was hesitant to move if his uncle was looking to make him a victim to his joke, and he snatched up his rabbits to use as an excuse to be going to the kitchens anyway and held his head high, entering through the wood door and descending down the steps, swearing to have his vengeance if the old man was lying.

However, when he got about halfway, he could not deny the chorus of sharp yelps he was hearing and then there they all were, from the youngest Rickon, to the eldest boys Robb and Jon, clutching in their arms balls of fur.

"blimey," he gasped and everyone turned around to look at his bewildered expression.

"look Lucan, we found Direwolves!" the baby in the family cried.

Bran, rubbing his pup between the ears, glared at his brother, "you didn't find them Rickon, Robb and I did."

He didn't bother getting in between their argument and looked over to his girl, Leona. She was giggling with pure devotion at the one she had claimed as her own, letting it lick her face as she held it close to her.

"have you named them yet?" Lucan asked, and Leona was the first to answer.

"well, I don't know about the others, but I know what mine is called," She smiled, " _Faith."_


	3. Chapter 3

"Leona!" my name was screamed down at the end of the corridor leading to my chambers.

The scream was piercing and it was frantic, and it was obviously my little sister, Sansa. I rolled my eyes expecting her to wag a complaint about Arya at me as soon as she arrived, seeing as that was a common occurrence. Not even Faith was disturbed by the sudden noise, and continued with her sound sleep.

For a pup she was big and I beamed proudly at her from my bath, when my sister burst into my room.

"Leona," she cried again and I glared.

"Sansa, before entering my room, you know you really should nock first."

My words passed over her braided head and she was hopping from slipper to slipper, with her hands clenched tightly to her chest, as if she were ready to burst.

This was far too much emotion for a lady like Sansa to exhume and I raised my brow at her, while I pushed and pulled the water by motioning my hands beneath the surface.

"seven hells girl, what's wrong with you?"

My curse calmed her some and she quirked a brow at me enhancing her resemblance to our mother, for she too was ever disapproving of my conduct as a high born. Between myself and Arya I don't think Catelyn and Sansa Stark really knew who was worse, but I had all my money on Arya, because unlike her, I did carry some of the airs and graces expected of a lady when the situation commanded it, while she would sooner tell anyone who wished for her to do the same to go to hell. Perhaps if I weren't the eldest girl, I would be the same, which raised the thought in me again of how Sansa would have been better suited in being the elder between us both.

That way maybe Lucan and I would not raise so much concern.

At her expression I flicked some water in her direction and she hastily backed away to save from the water marking her dress, gasping in annoyance.

"I'm not taking back my curse," I warned, "so get on with telling me what you came here to tell me will you."

Sansa narrowed her pure blue eyes and sat beside Faith while her Direwolf, 'Lady', who had trailed into the room after her mistress, like her shadow, placed her high and mighty self at Sansa's feet, looking like the noble statues carved beside our ancestors, who now rest in the crypts of Winterfell.

I couldn't help but scoff at how the animal's behaviour mimicked Sansa's, and then giggled when my own lifted her head just for a moment to stare at the two as I did, and then blow her nose at them before she carried on sleeping.

I suppose I had made quite the impression on my own Direwolf as well.

Sansa sighed while petting Lady, "I don't know why I bothered coming here; you're not going to care."

Her childish scorn was not something I wanted to endure, but as siblings do, I bit back at her, although trying not to pay Sansa any real attention when continuing to bathe.

"well in that case, leave."

I knew that it wouldn't be that easy. Sansa was buzzing from excitement and it was stifling the room, the way she was so anxious to expel it from the tip of her tongue, since for some reason it was important to her that she be the bearer of the news, which must already be going around the stronghold, while I was still ignorant of it, thus her need to tell me before anyone else beat her to it.

"it's the king," she stated, and this time, it was me who quirked my brow at her.

"what about him?"

At my question, it sparked a return of Sansa's enthusiasm, and her mouth widened into a bright smile, which complimented her pretty face.

"he's coming here Leona; to the North, to Winterfell."

Sansa leaned forward, and with pure glee she whispered, "and he's bringing the whole of the royal court."

For a moment I didn't register what it was she had just said and then word for word, they began to set in, and I smirked at the impossibility.

"I seriously doubt that Sansa," lifting a leg, I ran my hand down as a final effort of cleanliness and plonked it back down into the water, but just as I did, another voice joined in our conversation.

"Actually its true. I heard mother telling Rodrick down in the court yard"

Sansa and I turned sharply to look where our brother, Bran, was entering through my bedroom window, clutching on the pane tightly until he dropped down on the floor, wearing a triumphant grin plastered on his handsome face.

"Bran!" Sansa exclaimed on my behalf, "what has mother told you about climbing?"

If he didn't answer to mother under such questioning, there was no way he would answer to Sansa, and her panic brushed off him like it were nothing and he welcomed in Faith who had dashed towards him upon entering.

With her bushy tail wagging, she licked him enough to make Bran giggle and I rolled my eyes, "what is this, a family gathering."

Realising that any chance I would be able to continue in enjoying my bath was non-existent, I waved a hand where on a practitioner, my bed robe was draping over the edge.

"Sansa, pass me that would you," I asked, and then snapping my fingers to get my brothers attention, I cautioned that he avert his gaze, when I hoisted myself out of the tub and stepped in the waiting material Sansa held open for me.

Tying it off with a few tight tugs, I walked over to my dressing table and grabbed a brush to comb through my damp hair, testing the validity in what my siblings claimed.

"why would the king come here? Surely he has more important matters to tend to back at Kings Landing."

Seeing the envy in Sansa's eyes I extended the arm that held the brush and offered it out to her, and with a skip to her step, she accepted the brush and started, with gentle care, to do the job for me, having always wanted hair the length of mine, and often it frustrated her with how long it took to grow, since patience wasn't something she was very good at.

With Sansa behind me, I concentrated on Bran who was still playing with Faith as he shrugged.

"I couldn't get too close, in case mother saw me up on the roof, but from what I could hear, the king is coming because of Lord Arryn."

I had been wondering where his little pup was while Bran was with his sisters, and from the duration that we had been talking, the Direwolf must have sniffed him out and followed his master to here, and just as Sansa had, the thing burst through the door, and with some jealousy leaped at Faith to battle for Bran's affection.

"what about him?"

With the Direwolves bickering, Bran stood up from the floor and dusted off his trousers, "he's dead."

I could feel Sansa's hand freeze mid stroke, probably having missed that part when concentrating solely on the factor that Kings Landing was coming to Winterfell, and then she carried on, commenting, "well, he was an old man."

As much as that was true, father told us so many stories of his time in the Eyrie, and how much he doted on Lord Arryn who helped raise him into the man he was today. Though they had not seen each other since the rebellions, I could bet that father depended on lord Arryn, in continuing to be honourable, but now that he was gone, there must be an element of isolation, and fear when he was so used to looking to him for guidance, even if it were just a written word.

I didn't notice that Sansa had braided my hair until she lay it over my shoulder, having been lost to my sympathy for our father and his grief. However, I still could not understand why that called for a royal visit, and then I realised something.

"yes, Lord Arryn was an old man indeed; An old man that has been with King Robert from the very beginning of his reign, being one of only two people that he trusts most in this world, and now; he is suddenly without a Hands confidence…"

Wide eyed, my young siblings did not have a clue what I was going on about and looked at me queerly.

"I need to speak with father."

Darting from my stool, I removed my robe and just as swiftly, so he didn't see anything, I threw it atop Bran's head to blacken his sight and grabbed something at random from a chest at the foot of my bed, to replace it with. Figuring I was in a hurry, Sansa willing came to my aid and did up the buttons running down my spine with quick fingers, and I spared just a glance in the mirror before leaving, throwing behind me.

"and you two better not still be in here when I get back!"

…

If the stronghold was filled with gossip, I knew my father well to know that he would want no part in any of it, and would keep himself to the Gods wood where it was quiet and peaceful, and seldom where people would go.

On my way there I saw that Lucan was spending some time with Jon, and I was glad as the boy was so alike our father and from time to time would become like stone without expression or a voice to give opinion, as he did not think himself at liberty to give it because of the circumstances of his birth.

That never much mattered to me. Jon was as much a brother to me as Robb, Bran and Rickon were, and I knew I could confine in him whatever grieved or concerned me, and half the time I need never tell him, for sure he had sussed it out for himself already, because of this way he has for reading people and being so observant, thus it was needless to say, he knew of me and Lucan of course, and cheered us on in our pursuit to be with each other.

As the two men caught me going pass, a doting grin lifted a side of Lucan's mouth as he sat on a stone wall framing the open corridor behind it, causing a butterfly to flutter its wings inside my belly, and a heat to spread in various places, demonstrating both the innocence of our love and the fire of its passion.

It was hard not to go to him, as this was the first time I was seeing him this day, but besides the courtyard being busy, so was Rodrick, his uncle, standing near the boys, probably having done training them, and he, after hearing of our intentions, would if I could, chain Lucan to a tree some distance away, to keep us parted, and though he had never struck Lucan before the day my mother revealed our love to him, the old man made up for it, and for weeks, Lucan walked around Winterfell blind, with both his eyes swollen shut, with orders not to go nowhere near Maester Luwin, in hopes of care.

Sir Rodrick was utterly convinced that what we shared would pass, and that I would soon regret the day I ever laid eyes on him when a more gallant Lord came my way, and it made me realise it wasn't for shame of Lucan seducing me that he was so against us, but rather he believed that I was playing Lucan, and would only break his heart.

Of course, that was not the case.

And that would never happen.

And it hurt me to think that a man I knew since birth would think me capable of such cruelty.

All this time staring at each other, and any longer it would be noticed by someone, so with Jon behind him, my brother took the opportunity to push Lucan from his perch and onto the hard ground below.

"Bloody hell Jon!" Lucan cried sprawled on the dirt, while others who caught what happened laughed at him, myself and Jon included, who was gripping his sides.

It was nice to see him laugh, and it made for more merriment as Lucan would too have appreciated Jon's rare display of fun.

"what's wrong Lucan, had a little fall!" Jon teased.

With a probable ache at his backside, Lucan slowly raised himself up off his landing spot with a slight falter, and pointed a finger and the black haired boy.

"yes you laugh it up now, because it only gives reason for payback later on."

I rolled my eyes at what had just started between the two, for Lucan was a man of his word and would find a way to get back at Jon, while relishing at the thought in scheming to do so.

Jon, Jon was cunning, and I did not doubt that he would still best my love.

Their laughter was still ringing in my ears, and making me smile when I reached the solitude of the Gods wood, and then it calmed my happiness to a sound contentment, as I meandered across the grassland and crept beneath the red leaved branches.

Lord Eddard was seated on root and stone when I appeared, and I did not make a sound that would disturb him, as I waited until he was ready to talk.

"Leona," he finally said after a short while, "what are you doing here, my girl?"

He did not ask accusingly, he asked just from curiosity and I inched closer to him, so I was nearly sat on his feet, like I used to do when I was a child and he brought me here to gaze into the black pool.

I looked fondly at his weathered face and grasped his hand in mine.

"forgive me father, but I have heard of Lord Arryn's passing, and I wanted to say how sorry I am."

My father nodded solemnly, "it wasn't you're doing sweet child."

"no," I admitted, "but I am sorry all the same. He was dear to you, I know this."

Lord Eddard breathed a deep breath of the northern air, letting its cold chill fill him as we were comforted by this cold as Stark's, and then he said, "it's good to know that besides your mother, it is that factor which stands out to you, compared with the other news, that has rather shadowed his death."

I squeezed his hand, "they weren't raised on stories of the Eyrie as I constantly was, so they wouldn't know how close your relationship was with him. So don't take their ignorance to heart."

Smiling at me, Winterfell's Lord cupped my cheek and kissed the top of my head.

"you're a fine young woman, my dear Leona. I often forget how quick the years have gone where once you were a babe in my arms, but now, nearly a woman grown. For the life of me, I don't know how I will ever let you go when the time comes."

After his kiss, Lord Eddard rested his chin in place of where his lips had been and I closed my eyes in comfort of being with my father.

He and I have always shared a close bond; he named me himself, a squealing new-born placed in his arms, and he spoke often of how I instantly grabbed for his thumb and with an iron hold, refused to let go when the Maester wished to clean me off, and so he had to cut the cord and bathe me in the wash basin himself, while my mother panted, absolutely exhausted on the bed.

Rocking me while I cried, having entered into a strange new world, I actually fell soundly asleep, and though the memory of his sister was still too painful to put her name in use every day, he did make for a variation of it, and created in his mind Leona.

It was only with me that this contact was shared with, having just been born, and it bound us deeper I think, although he did love all his children.

From a babe to who I was now, I knew nothing else of my father other than games and happiness.

Thus, when he asked if I were sure about Lucan, I told him that he was, as my father, my first love and hero, and who set in place great expectations when it came to the standards I would measure all of men against. Lucan met them all. But still, Lord Eddard had a special place in my heart, which no other person could touch or replace.

Admittedly, that was too much of an emotional display for my father, but behind closed doors, I knew he might have smiled enough for it to reach his eyes.

"okay, now I am going to annoy you," I admitted, quite nervously.

Lord Eddard did not move, and I prepared myself to say what came next, licking my dry lips and swallowing the lump forming at the back of my throat.

With a dose of courage, I then said, "I know the real reason why King Robert is coming to the North, father... He wants to make you his Hand."

His jaw clenched. I could feel that much, and he released me from his hold, "who told you, your mother?"

I shook my head, and pointed to it, "although, she is right in saying that I am too clever for my own good."

The joke went over his head, and he stroked the nearest branch of the Weirwood tree seeking the harmony he sought from the start, but alas, his body remained rigid, and I felt guilty for spoiling his peace.

Clenching his hand, he peered into the black pool as it reflected both he and I in its waters, and I followed his gaze.

"you want to know what I'm going to tell him when he asks."

I did not reply, letting him divulge only what he wanted at his own pace.

"I'm afraid," he started, when there was not even a breeze to stir the leaves to make a sound to fill the silence, "you will have to keep on wondering, Leona…Because I don't know myself."

Releasing the pool from his sight, Lord Eddard returned to looking at me and he was so very conflicted. I could sense that, for it was a heavy burden to be drawn between honour, duty and family…

And when I realised what must be done, it was I, who then cupped his cheek.

"then I think, you must learn to do the impossible father."

"and what's that?" he questioned.

"make a decision based not solely on either your heart, or on your mind; but with both."

….

After my conversation with father, dinner was quite flavourless and I barely touched any of it, while the rest of the hall wolfed what the kitchens prepared down. I saw that my father was much the same, as well as my mother, who clung close to him, fearing these to be his last days in Winterfell, for I knew she would not want him to go to Kings Landing, and be open in saying so to him as well.

I could not blame her.

He belonged in winter.

he was our Lord.

But more than that.

My mother was a superstitious woman, and any Stark ventured south, has never boded well.

She was terrified on behalf of her husband.

Lost in my thoughts, something small struck the side of my face, and when I turned Lucan was rolling pieces of bread between his fingers next to Robb and Theon, since Jon would be further away from this table, and generally he would not be allowed here neither, but seeing as this was not a formal gathering he could come and join the boys in talks of training and hunting.

I did not smirk at his childish antics, and that gave cause for him to worry as his thick brows furrowed and he ran a hand over his beard, which was what he usually did when trying to figure out a way to get closer to me in public.

I thought I would save him the trouble and I raised to my feet, "father, my I be excused?"

Through the clatter of cutlery and boisterous voices, no one really heard me, but my father caught on enough to permit what I asked, and I made my way out of the doors to a hidden corner where no candle light could touch.

There I waited, hands folded behind me as I rested against the wall and stared at the ceiling aware of being on the verge of change, and I couldn't say, that in this situation, that I liked the feeling.

Suddenly and arm snaked its way around my waist and I pulled them near so I could fall on them.

"you took your time," I commented, though my voice was muffled by being pressed against Lucan's leather tunic.

His hand cradled around to the back of my head, "forgive me love, but after you left my uncle watched me like a bloody hawk; so I got Robb to distract him."

"shame on you for leading Winterfell's heir down a path pf treachery," I mocked half-heartedly, and the lack of enthusiasm had Lucan draw me from his chest so he could take a proper look at me.

Concerned still, he asked, "what's wrong Leona? You're not like your usual self."

Laying a hand over his, I didn't feign any other emotion other than the sadness I felt.

"you've heard what's happening?"

With little thought, Lucan flickered his eyes to either of mine, like their mismatched colour would betray something different to him.

"you mean how the king is riding for Winterfell?"

I sighed, already sick of the mentioning of the event when it was news given only this day.

"precisely that indeed."

"well what about it?"

For a moment I envied Lucan's ignorance and did not want to divulge it, but if my mother could share the burden with father, I should be owed the same comfort, and with a shaky breath I told him everything that had transpired from when I was bathing, up until the Gods wood, and by the end, Lucan mimicked me in emotion.

Servants passing by was what it took for him to return to reality, and we clutched each other tightly in the darkness to avoid being seen, although it wasn't likely that we would be, and when they were gone he asked, "and what does your father becoming the Hand mean for us?"

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and I let out a pitiful sound that pained him I's sure because his own eyes glittered also and he brought me back to the comfort of his chest, where I sobbed "I don't know Lucan; I don't know…"


	4. Chapter 4

When Lucan had held Leona last, fear had been coursing through her veins, and fear was not something she experienced often, and there was nothing she found more distasteful than the fear, of fear itself, when as a person, she was always so brave, and unshakable. This gave Lucan the duty of reminding her, that although she was a wolf, she still was a human also, and with that came the notion that it was their nature to endure the emotions, that demanded to be felt.

These words often fell on deaf ears, so in times where she felt near defeat, Leona took to the wild upon her mare, allowing the beast to hammer at the frozen ground, until she could take flight, for there was no better rider in all the north, than the young Lady Stark, rivalling even the skill they say her aunt Lyanna possessed.

However, with her talent, it made for tracking her incredibly difficult as there was no telling what direction she might take, and how treacherous the path. More than once, she has had those who care for her, gasping for breath at the risks she takes and the terrible leaps; but she trusted in her horse and it has not failed her yet.

Weeks have passed since the raven brought word from the south, and during those weeks, which had the king and his host travel closer to Winterfell, Leona has become distant to everyone and everything.

Her father, her mother, her siblings…

When she is in the same room as them, they stare at her with concern. When she does not eat attempts are made to entice Leona with a selection of her favourite meals displayed on the table before her. And when she does not speak, the baby Rickon lays down the guilt trip thick by crying for her attention. But she gives into none of it, so when she isn't out riding, she is alone in her room, staring beyond the windows glass, until night brings her to bed, and Lucan didn't truly believe that she slept even then, from what he could tell standing at the distance she forced him.

Indeed, it has been weeks, and he would sit in the forest, hours on end, hoping to catch a glimpse of her ridding by. Those instances were few, though he eagerly anticipated them, and every evening when she sat in the hall, he hoped that it would finally be the night, she would want to go to their corner.

But it never was.

And he was far too northern, to wallow in heartbreak, and could be just as determined as she, to get what he wanted.

So when dawn broke, commencing the start of the day when the King would arrive at Winterfell, Lucan roused himself from the meagre sleep he got, while sitting in the corridor outside Leona's bedroom door, waiting for the moment it creaked open, as she sneaked off for those leisurely rides of hers.

It didn't take long before that happened, and swift on his feet, Lucan ended the distance by being forceful himself, coming through the door to smother her startled yelp, and close it shut with his foot again.

Her blue and grey eye blazed with anger, making Lucan smile with pure and utter relief.

"fuck it's good to see that fire in you again!"

Antagonizing Leona was not the best thing to do, and she reached around his back to grab a fistful of Lucan's dark hair to harshly yank downwards, until he released her, and he did with a yowl.

"rocks thrown at my head, getting knocked off a wall, and my hair pulled," Lucan complained, rubbing where he was sure his scalp was visible to the world, "you Starks really have it out for me."

Marching over to Faith, Leona flicked her furry ear, "good defending," making the ashy pup jump up on her paws and retreat over to Lucan, as her mistress mouthed traitor at the animal, crossing her arms and scowling.

Lucan stroked Faith's ear flat against her head gently.

"Don't blame her, for my antics," and the thing sighed leaning into his hand, "She's just probably as sick of your mood lately as everyone else is."

"oh I see; this is an interrogation," Leona sneered, and the spoilt tone did not suit her.

Lucan clicked his tongue from the roof of his mouth at Faith, earning him a wet lick on the nose, before he let her venture off, as if knowing the young couple needed some alone time, or to save herself from the drama she wanted no part of, like a child running from its arguing parents.

With her back to him, Leona said coldly, "people presuming they can just barge into my room, is getting rather old."

"if you didn't hide away," Lucan signalled about the room, "then there would be no reason for the annoyance."

Her head angled so she could see him, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, only marred with stains of its dinner and perfumed with strong ale and wine, a scent he usually didn't wear.

"I am not hiding."

Even without the flinch, it was obvious that she was lying, and Lucan pointed that out to her.

"really, because I would beg to differ. After all, is this not our first conversation since you told me of the king's intention to make your father Hand?"

Leona fell silent, allowing Lucan to approach her, and he breathed in deep her fresh and pleasant scent, which he had missed. Then he touched her again, and through the cotton of her dress, fear was replaced by shame in her body, and she spun around quick to wrap her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise.

"…and now" Lucan teased, "I'm being choked by a Stark."

The Lady laughed the best she could, all things considered, and gave him once last squeeze when she pulled away.

"I intended for a ride this morn," she admitted, and slipping a hand beneath her dress, she urged the cotton off her shoulders, letting it pool about her feet, "and that hasn't changed."

….

In a tangle of limbs and sheets, Lucan savoured being joined together as one, with the woman he loved, before the throes of their passion eased and he fell back on the mattress panting.

After all, the girl was a skilled rider.

With Leona's fingers circling around Lucan's chest, she flattened her palm to feel his heart beating, since it was she who made for its current state, and then she guided Lucan's rough hands to do the same with her.

"it's a song," she spoke, "a song of Lucan and Leona."

Lucan continued to feel the drumming beat, until it faded down slowly and then he kissed the spot, and trailed up to Leona's lips, "who knew the Lady Leona was a romantic."

"don't spread it around," she murmured, "I have a reputation, you know."

They both chuckled, and enjoyed the comfortable silence, that made for contrast against their love making. That silence, despite itself, was like a harmonic sound of Leona thinking, and her thoughts reached Lucan's heart as gentle as a whisper, and it put the pleasurable moans of sex to shame.

However, the sound was not so light and carefree as it usually was. There was darkness and fog obscuring the mystery of what has been going on inside her head and Lucan could stand it no longer.

"Leona?" he asked, to which her reply was a soft hum, nestling deeper into the crook of his neck.

But when he didn't say anything more, she realised what he wanted, because it was not her flesh he waited outside her door for, although Lucan could not deny his hunger for Leona. Instead, this was just another display in how far the couple were willing to fight and stay with each other, even when the struggle was between themselves on those very rare occasions.

Lucan was a man who valued truth, and no matter how hard it was to be honest, Leona would hurt him more if she lied and said nothing, as it would be the same if the roles were reversed, for they valued trust, believing that if lies are spoken once, with the other knowing about it, then it does make for a questionable future, and neither Lucan or Leona would be so stupid, as to risk that.

 _'_ _just breathe,'_ Lucan urged without voice, and she obeyed.

But the deep breath did not have the desired affect and calm her.

Leona only trembled.

"…have you ever felt like you're standing on the edge of your life, and change was threatening to give that fatal push? Lucan…"

His name on her lips sounded more like a whimper and it did something terrible to Lucan's heart, where he felt it had been pinched as she continued to cry out the rest of her confession.

"I'm terrified, because reaching far down, is my fate; but it's not how I am to end that scares me, it's the actual fall which will seal it, since I believe it will hurt far more."

As Lucan comprehended what she had said, it was clear to him that it was from not knowing the events and challenges this change will bring, which made Leona feel very vulnerable to the outside world, when all throughout her life, she has known only Winterfell and did not care for venturing beyond the norths borders, to discover more of Westeros, as her father unknowingly and without the intention, poisoned the kingdom with telling tales of the rebellion.

Since she was a child, knowledge of what happened to the Starks when they had ventured south had tormented Leona, believing it was a curse for them to suffer for it, as her grandfather burned, her uncle choked, while somewhere, her aunt was also held captive, raped, and then died from the sorrow.

She even had nightmares, where all there would be, was darkness, but the screams that would penetrate it, were more terrifying than anything, and the smell of blood was almost too much to bear.

 _'_ _there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.'_

If Lord Eddard agreed to go to Kings Landing, Leona believed that he would die a horrible death as all the others did who shared his name, and if that be so, chaos would follow it, and it did not treat so kindly those it ensnared.

Lady Leona had a sharp mind, which left no stone uncovered.

You would say one thing to her and she would come up with another meaning, which you did not know you meant yourself, and this was just another one of those examples, where she had gone too far.

"why must you fall, when you still have me to hold onto?"

To prove his point, Lucan's hold over her body tightened and he pressed his cheek into her head,

But even when he was trying his damndest to comfort her, the woman still had to be argumentative, that's how he knew it was working.

"And am I so worth holding onto?"

"…the day that I am forced to let you go, for whatever reason; is the day I die, because without you. There is no me. I would be nothing; an empty vessel. I need you Leona. I need you so that there is a heart inside my chest, and a soul in my body. So I would say that yes, you are pretty worth it."

When she lifted herself up from his skin, Lucan was compelled to follow her, and they stared deeply into each other's eyes, and like windows he could read her, and it was clear that she would keep him to his word.

To never let her go.

And there wasn't a chance in hell, that he ever would.

…..

Lucan managed to slip out of Leona's room before some maidservants entered to prepare her for the royal arrival, and catch them in bed together. He had gone around one corner, when in the opposite direction their delicate laughter reached his ears, so he had cut it close and sighed, wondering what to do with himself now, but with a stray wind, he realized just how potent his scent had become and he marched straight for his own room, which was nearly below ground, with how close he was to the servants.

After all, his birth was lowly, and he didn't really have a role or duty in Winterfell to earn his keep, besides being a companion to Robb, and so he was living off the Starks charitable nature, and was lucky he hadn't been kicked out on his ass according to Lucan's uncle Rodrick for his 'antics' with Leona.

As he pushed open his door, the hinges let out a scream, and he carried in a bowl of water which Lucan had gotten from the kitchens to give himself a good clean over, swearing someone gave the icy surface a good crack before anyone used it, because every time he slapped the cloth on himself, he nearly gasped at how bloody freezing it was, and rushed to get his furs back on, although he had to opt for outfit number two in his chest, having been warned by Rodrick, to try and make himself a little more presentable for when Winterfell received the south.

But what difference was there. He had on chainmail, a cotton tunic, leather, and fur. Men in the north, they were just a mirror reflection of each other, as their clothes had to be practical and being so far, there wasn't a chance to waste trade on clothing over food, since the land was too cold for proper farming, so no lord would look more opulent than the common servant, and the only difference might be their houses' Sigel or the thickness of their cloaks fur collar.

Without any more thought given to his wardrobe, Lucan left his room, as he scarcely ever spent time in there unless it was to sleep, and went in search for the lads, and on his way, someone no taller than his hip scampered past him with some haste, and he managed to grab them by the collar and pull them back.

"morning little lady," he greeted, bending down to their level, "and where are we off to in such a hurry?"

The youngest stark daughter was like her half-brother Jon; dark with strong features, which the other young girls teased her for, since her mother's loveliness didn't have a look in, like it did with her sisters. However, he was sure that someday Arya would catch up with them, as he had heard mention from his uncle and the Lord Eddard that she did resemble the Lady Lyanna some, and her face was worth starting a war over going by what he had learnt from all the stories.

Arya tucked her arm further into her cloak, "what do you mean? I'm not going anywhere."

Lucan chuckled, knowing enough of the girl's wildness to think otherwise.

"really, so why do you have this then?"

He fished for her hand and took from its grasp a wooden sword his uncle used to train Bran and Rickon with, and he did not doubt that he himself might have used the very same when he was a child, and she stared after it, disappointed to have been caught.

"I wasn't going to use it on anyone," Arya swore earnestly, widening those big eyes of hers innocently, and Lucan smiled at the change, since the last time she had sneaked the toy away, sansa had crossed her path, making a remark that had maddened the girl, and she acted before thinking. The result was Arya being held prisoner in her room, while her sole visitor was Septa Mordane when it was time for her lessons in becoming a proper young lady, while her sister sported a black and blue bulge on her forehead, which refused to ease any, for all she cursed and willed it to go.

"it's just that-" Arya continued explaining, "I had watched Bran with Rodrick yesterday, and wanted to give what he had taught him a go; To see if I could do it."

Lucan couldn't help but chuckle, causing the girl to frown at him.

"what?" she asked confused.

With the memory in his head, he smiled fondly.

"Leona used to do that, " he told her, "when she was younger than you are now, she used to stand by the stables and watch your brothers, myself and Theon train with a scowl on her face, like she was just yearning to snatch our swords from our hands and show us how it was done, and then before I could put my sword away, she would come up behind me and demand that I hand it over."

There was gleeful spark in Arya's eyes, through admiration for her eldest sister.

"and you would give it to her?"

Lucan nodded, "could you imagine what she would have done if I had denied her it?"

The girl laughed, "I've lied to her before, and she only went and stank out my room. She had sown sheep shift in my mattress see and I didn't realise until months after it. But it's okay, since it gave me something to do to Sansa besides wanting to throttle her."

"I suppose that's an improvement then aye?"

Lucan hadn't heard that one before, and made note to keep it in mind if he ever smelt something untoward in his room.

"anyway," he continued, "Leona would go off somewhere quiet and mimic what she had seen us practice that day, leaving it to me to cover for her if my uncle realized the sword was missing."

Arya bit her lip in thought, "was she any good?"

"I don't know," Lucan answered truthfully, "she hid so well, not even I could find and watch her do it, and then one day, she stopped demanding for it and focused more on her riding."

Arya was silent, trying to come up with a reason why her sister would want to do that and coming up with none, she admitted, "I wanted to get some practice in before the king arrives, because who knows when I will be able to do it while he's here. Mother wants me to be the perfect Lady, while septa Mordane looks after us, and by us I mean me, sansa, and the Princess Marcella."

Her dismay at the thought of needle work besides a royal princess was comical, and Lucan did not hold in his laugh, for how at odds she and sansa would be, with her sister trying to convince Arya of the honour and privilege, so if this was her last chance at freedom to do as she pleases, Lucan did not want to cheat her of it.

"you better be quick then," he warned, handing the sword back to her, "and don't tell anyone it was me who gave you this if you get caught again, alright?"

Arya wasted no time in agreeing and darted off to where it was she wielded her stolen good, and from another servant Lucan found out where the boys were and headed straight for it.

…..

Joining in on the gathering, Robb, Theon and Jon were all showing off their pasty skin, wearing just their trousers in the meat locker, where Tommy the butcher, had a razor in hand and was gliding it down Robb's cheek.

"what's this then? you girls getting pretty for the prince."

Robb couldn't, but the other two turned to look at Lucan and snarled.

"fuck off Lucan, just because I don't want a face as hairy as a dog's asshole."

A real charmer was Lord Eddard's ward, Theon, who was all mouth and no show half the time, and Lucan punched him right between the legs, making him topple in on himself whimpering.

"your just pissed because you need balls to grow a beard, Greyjoy."

"are you not coming in for a good groom then?" Robb spoke as much as he could with Tommy having a grasp on his face.

Lucan ran a hand over his mouth, combing the thick hairs down. He has had a beard since he was old enough to start growing one and he never did anything to try and tame or stop it. If Lucan shaved it off now, he doubted that anyone would be able to recognise him and that went for his hair too, since he kept that long as well and tied back off his face, while the rest fell free. But even if Lucan wanted a shave, the old man Tommy would have been his last choice of barber.

He thinks because he can hack a pig to bits, he can somehow cut hair too, and Lucan wasn't entirely confident in that notion.

Still stroking his beard, Lucan answered "nah, I think I'll pass on that one."

"…have it my way and I would too."

Jon piped in, moping as usual, and no matter how many times Lucan had called him a miserable git and thrown a drink down his gullet, just to see a dopey smile on his face, that drunken weightlessness never lasted for long and he would return to how he is now. Ever aware of the tension his presence created, when a father could not acknowledge the son; when a Lady would render him dead with just a look from her Tully blue eyes; while being surrounded by siblings who did not share his name, and carried the honour of Stark, rather than the shame of 'Snow'.

In that regards, he had every right to be as he was, but by all accounts, Lucan saw more of Lord Eddard's nature in this man called Snow than he did in any of his true born sons. Robb was Eddard's heir of course, and Lucan would never say this out loud, only he always saw a touch of destiny with Jon; a natural leader, rather than just going by the teachings and expectations his Maester, mother and father showered him with.

Loyalty would demand that you listen to Robb's word, but If you listened to Jon; then that was because he inspired you to do so.

Thus creating, quite a significant difference.

Comparing the brothers had occupied Lucan's mind, and he snapped back to attention where the balding Tommy was near standing like a woman who was ready for a fight, what with his hip out and a hand resting on it.

"are you lads trying to tell me something?"

Theon tightened his lips to keep from laughing, the same as Robb, while Lucan exchanged a quick glance with Jon, and was quicker with his tongue.

"what? No don't be so ridiculous Tommy," Lucan waltzed over to where the man had the Lordling perched on a stool and bent down to examine him.

"I mean look at Robb; smooth as new-born he is."

The judgment came with a couple of slaps on Robb's freshly shaven cheeks, putting Lucan at risk for a punch the same as he had bestowed on Theon, but he managed to dodge it, which didn't please Robb at all in that mocking way men jest with each other.

"slick bugger!"

Lucan shrugged and perched his arse on the bench behind him just an inch.

"might as well make the most of it now Lucan; what with the high and mighty watching, you won't be able to talk or treat your betters the way you are now."

Theon probably had wanted the snide comment to sting him a bit, but Lucan pitied the boy if he thought he'd earn any respect that would equal to that which would undoubtedly be shown to Robb, since his father was a defeated rebel, that all throughout Westeros mocked for his failed war and fancy for being called king.

However, since Lucan was kind he did not say as much to Greyjoy, but greatly anticipated when one of those southern, pompous knights knocked him right off his high horse for merely breathing the same air as them.

Feigning a southern accent, Lucan straightened his back and stuck his nose up.

"good gracious Greyjoy, and I hate to think I might ruin your chances of finding out what noise a lioness makes when there's a squid squirming in her bed, not knowing where to put its tentacles."

"Kraken you idiot; anyway, I hear the queen's a right minx."

Trust Theon to run wild with Lucan's scenario as he licked his lips, and was nearly showing everyone just how far his mind was imagining things.

"and I hear the prince is a right royal prick."

Tommy was finishing shaving Robb, rubbing his face with a piece of cloth and Lucan nodded since the fact that he was half Lannister said enough.

Sighing, the south hadn't arrived yet, and already Lucan wanted them to turn back to where they had come from, so that things could return to as they were.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa hesitated by the doorframe, her eyes flickering from top to bottom, and she licked her lips, trying to hide the fact that although she certainly was a pretty girl, that was all she was for now, while I her sister was a woman, in more ways than just reaching a mature age.

I was aware how she thought the attention was constantly drawn my way before her and what's worse, I did not appreciate any of it, as she had once lectured me, so as she continued to gaze, I tried to make her feel better by praising her for all I was worth.

"sansa? My goodness, look at you," I smiled proudly, to make her blush.

With her bright auburn hair braided into a typical northern style, she wore a dress that I had helped stitch with her and I strived to marvel at what more she had added to it, when she remarked over the tiniest detail.

Her hands in mine, I squeezed them tightly, "Dare I say, you're going to put the queen to shame."

She scoffed, but I could tell that I had charmed her, allowing there to be no tension between us now, and relieved, I wandered off to fix in place with my Direwolf pin, my cloak with the grey fur.

"I hardly think that's possible. She's supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom."

Ushering my feet into their slippers, I quirked a brow at my sister, and almost forgot that sansa would not get any of my crude jokes, which hung on the tip of my tongue, concerning a Lannister's self-righteous personality, so I picked an easier jibe which she could understand.

"yes, but she has been queen for an awful long time. Surely that crown ought to have made her neck a little crooked by now."

Sansa gasped, looking around as if the royal already had her spies within the walls of my bedroom, and if I thought that were true, I might have shouted it out louder.

"Leona, you can't say things like that! she is the queen."

I couldn't help but snigger, and shook my head at a young girl who I knew would be enraptured by the lionesses very presence, so enthralled by fairy tales was she, but I hadn't the heart to take them away from her yet.

I cradled Sansa's shoulder and looked her in the eyes, "and I suppose that's her excuse for everything huh? I must admit; its poor armour."

Dubious, my being the eldest after Robb had its draw backs when I spoke to my other siblings, since I had lost my innocent wonder long ago, and remained undecided on whether or not I was envious of them.

"come on, I suppose the king is close?"

Sansa nodded, with a spark of excitement I did not share and as I bade Faith to stay put in my room, we walked down to the courtyard together.

It was busy, people standing in the dirt anxiously waiting on the royal family's arrival, and how coincidental it was that my hand happened to brush against a strapping young mans, before I stood in place beside my brother, and sansa next to me.

I gazed around and it was quite the turn out, with servants watching from the windows and balconies and again I asked myself, what the deal was, imagining myself being somewhere else, like the hot spring, with better company to be anticipating.

and it just went to show, how unsuited I actually was to this life when I couldn't even pretend to be content in situations such as these, and still my mother hoped I would change my mind; see sense as she so eloquently puts it, when in my opinion, it was she who was delusional to believe that I could ever be happy, in the endless cycle women of my station are forced to endure.

"seven hells Leona, try and crack a smile," Robb teased in my ear and there was still enough time, that I could punch his shoulder, while mother fretted over Rickon, who insisted on being by her side.

"how can I, when we face an invasion from the south."

Lifting his lips into a smile, that the girls around here swooned over, Robb was a gallant young lord who would hardly voice his complaints out loud if his thoughts matched mine any, less father or mother overhear him, but seeing I wasn't best pleased, he cupped my hand in his.

"were hardly at war sister."

I let out a heavy sigh, that brought my head against his shoulder, as he continued to try and persuade me not to be so wary.

"this is a gathering; a joyous get together."

I couldn't stop myself from making an un-lady like snort, "seriously Robb, joyous?"

His smirk betrayed how false the word felt passing through his lips, but he nodded, and I rolled my eyes at him, and patted his arm.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, and I'll go find a rope which to hang myself from."

Someone from behind shushed me rather abruptly in disapproval, and since Sir Rodrick was scowling at me, I put my money on him, and might have murmured something in the lines of 'eavesdropping bastard' under my breath, which made myself and Robb chuckle, which admittedly lightened my mood to a degree.

"Leona,"

Hearing my mother, who was peering around my father's figure, she appeared somewhat stricken.

"where's your sister?"

Well I knew one was present, but the other…

I looked around for the maker of mischief herself, and saw no sign of Arya, until I saw that Lucan had made his way to the back of the crowd, whipping a wooden sword out of a small hand and dumping it over his shoulder, as he pointed them onwards.

I grinned, while people parted for the small person.

"oh, I suspect she's well on her way mother."

No sooner had I said as much, that she scurried before us, but didn't make it no further than father who stopped her, when he noticed that it wasn't everyday someone chose to match a blue dress with an iron helmet.

"hey, hey, what are you doing with that on?"

There are moments when I saw Arya, where I was reminded of myself; that guilty expression of a wolf pup caught doing something they shouldn't. father used to say, that it was that look which always let me off easy, no matter what I might have done, or how forcefully mother might insist he punish me, to try and straighten me out, and that surely I must have taught my youngest sister the art of it, because now, he found himself unable to do much to her either.

"Arya," I called, and I pointed between sansa and Bran, with the latter being who she pushed aside, with her being born before him, and then the horses came galloping in.

Men in suits of glorious armour, with nary a scratch on them, forming into lines; they sure did put on a good show, while another horse, with a large bear breaking its back came forth too.

"is that…" I started and caught a glare off Robb to silence me, which only confirmed that the hunk of bearded meat, was in fact the Baratheon king, and I heard the admiration in all the men around, who had heard the stories as well as I have about the Stag, shatter into pieces, and I think if I wasn't so shocked, I might have sniggered, and risk my neck.

A tug at my sleeve, Robb pulled me down into a low bow, as a step stool was presented to help the king dismount, and how he glared at my father, making me want to ask what his problem was, when it was he was inconveniencing us.

His leather gloved hand bade him to stand, and as my father rose, so did we all.

"your grace," he greeted formally, and the king shook his head.

"you've got fat."

A burly tone, anything softer than that would not have suited him, and my father lifted his furrowed brows for once, to signal at Robert's own protruding gut, that went well beyond his waist band, and we held our breath, to see if he would take offence.

However, this was a childhood friend, and time had not faded away their bond as the king's face brightened with a hollering laugh joined by my fathers, and then they embraced as friends should.

Everyone immediately relaxed, with my mother being next in line for a hug, who then smiled proudly at Rickon, whose head was christened by the king ruffling his hair.

"nine years;" he sighed, "why haven't I seen you, where the bloody hell have you been!"

Strangely my father was bemused, unlike his usual stoic self, and if he lightened my father in this way, there was a chance I could learn to stand the kings presence.

"guarding the north for you, your grace; Winterfell is yours."

I might have snorted at that, when any thought of mine regarding the southerners was that they did not belong in the south, but with my mother in the equation, I suppose she was the exception.

I should actually be grateful that he seemed more down to earth, compared to others in his company, especially who I presumed to be his son and heir, Joffrey, whose arrogance was making me gag even at this distance, with that sly smirk of his, that made Sansa's breath catch at the back of her throat.

 _'_ _oh no sansa; please, don't go there, please!'_

The door to the great wheel house opened, releasing some colour into the scene. Two yellow haired children and a couple of lady maids, then followed by a woman whose stone face might crack should she ever choose to smile in her lifetime.

 _'_ _That must be the queen then.'_

Nose in the air, she'll be able to tell us how the Gods smell if she carries on.

While I was busy scrutinising others, I didn't notice the king grip arms with Robb, and so his appearance before me, then took me aback. However, not as much as mine did him I'm sure.

I was aware of how people were protective over me.

The mismatched eyes; pale grey and blue.

The head half brown and auburn.

I was proof of the Gods indecisiveness, and while I was none too bothered, and accepted my reflection in the mirror, I have experienced some ridicule from those who cannot accept anyone who looks any different from the norm.

That meant blatant stares, or gasps, or in old nan's case, claiming often and loudly that I must have a witch's curse cast upon me, which had always been my personal favourite.

Robert Baratheon opted for blatant staring, and I thought it best that he took his fill now, so that after he was done, it wasn't likely he will be so shocked afterwards, whenever I walked into the room.

However, attuned to Lucan as I was, him gritting his teeth in annoyance was drowning out everything else, so I moved things along and bowed again.

"Leona, your grace."

My odd eyes regarded him once more, and he smiled.

"Leona," he repeated, getting a feel for the name, which might remind him of my aunts, "now you're a rare one aren't you."

"I've been called worse."

I could have slapped my hand over my mouth for speaking the thought out loud, when truly I hadn't intended to, but luckily I saved myself from shouting out the following curse, 'fuck!' which obviously might have worsened things a whole lot more.

It was like the moment had been frozen, and no one dared to move waiting to see how the king would react to what was, admittedly, my insolence, and I thought if he didn't punish me for it, then no doubt my mother would later on.

However, to everyone's blessed surprise, king Robert laughed louder and longer than he did before with my father.

Clutching his stomach, from the pains of it, I could feel that I had earned some admiration.

"Leona stark; oh yes, I like you," he chuckled again, and directed at my parents, "You've got a girl with spirt here Ned!"

 _'_ _enough to put them in an early grave if I carry on.'_

exhaling a sigh of relief, I was ready to just go back to my room now, when a gruff snort caught my attention and led it to an animal intended for war.

With a passion for horses, the handsome black stallion demanded my admiration, and yet I could tell that there was a mean streak to him, just by how he carried himself, being the lumbering beast that he was, which only made me curious to get up and personal with him.

Then I happened on the rider of this courser, and saw it in human form, and what a perfect fit they were, with his distinctive hound face helm having open jowls and I saw he too had a mean streak.

I didn't know him, but he wasn't someone I'd soon forget, as the left side of his flesh, was a scarred ruin, made by no other force that I could imagine, besides fire. Angry and red, his long hair is dark and thin, yet he brushed it to cover the part where none grew at all.

He must have felt my gaze.

You often can when you know there's something for people to stare at, as it was much the same with me, and where most coward away to have their eyes met by those they gawked at, I did not follow in their lead.

He wanted me to shy away; him being this imposing figure, who inspired fear and chose to revel in it, since he would then encounter it so often, and so I refused to give him the benefit of that.

And I was annoying him, which tasted a bit like victory, until my determination was broken.

"Leona."

Freshly groomed, Jon's unruly curls had been combed to a flat side parting, and I might have made a dig, if it wasn't for the fact that I was confused.

"where's everyone gone?"

The line of Starks I had been standing among, was gone, with just myself remaining, looking like a fool, and in the way of people going about their duties for the night's feast.

"it's good to see you were paying such close attention. Robb's showing the prince to his room. Your mother the queen; father's with the king, sansa the princess; and eh, Bran's paired off with the other prince…"

So it seemed I was left to my own devices before the evening closed in and I reminded myself that maybe Faith would like to go out on a hunt, since I so rarely gave in to feeding her off a plate and would admit, that going out for a ride would do me some good, since Lucan had prevented me from one earlier…

Not that I was complaining of course.

Then speaking of the devil, he was trying not to appear anxious to get to me, having stalled the approach for as long as he could stand too, but there was a line that deepened between his brows that betrayed him of all the worry he harboured.

Sure enough, I didn't doubt that if we weren't among witnesses, Lucan might already be threatening to bend me over his knee, with a belt in hand for my loose tongue.

"by all the Gods Leona!" he grinded past his teeth, "I just about shit myself. What were you thinking!"

I winced, brushing my fingers over my ear, "I was hoping I had exaggerated the situation. Was it really that bad?"

He and Jon were so different with how they were reacting to my outspokenness, with my brother being amused and Lucan exasperated that I actually had to ask.

"well, put it this way," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his beard, which was a habit of his when he was irritated, "I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when your mother's free of the queen."

I groaned, knowing all that I could do is take the scolding, like an obedient child, when there was no excuse for my having said what I did, besides just mere stupidity, and if I so much as even tried to get a word in on my defence, I'd only make matters worse.

Needless to say, if I go on this ride; I may not be tempted to return.

Aware of my disdain at what I had to look forward to, my mother's temper was justice for nearly making Lucan's heart jump out of his chest, and I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"and I bet you'll have your ear pressed against the door delighting in every word, you rat."

Lucan grinned, "as you put it yourself my love, ' _I've been called worse_ ," and perked his brows so the crease disappeared, before he strode off, leaving me with my mouth touching the floor, and Jon hysterically laughing.

…

Having just had one of the stable boy's settle in my horse, since I had little time before the feast, Faith's paws were patting against the stone, and I teased her by twinkling my fingers close to her nose, which she playfully tried to nip.

With a full belly, I had seen her pounce and devour a couple of rabbits, and she wouldn't need much more from me until morning, since she will sleep right through the night, granting a leave a bowl of water, for her to drink from, should she grow thirsty.

On my way to my room, she was still whining in delight because of our game and I was enjoying it with her, while up ahead a couple southern birds, were tweeting nosily to themselves, and gasped at the sight of us coming around the corner.

Hair piled high, and wearing matching silks and jewels, I cocked a brow wondering if anyone told them, before they set out from kings landing, where exactly it was they were going, and Faith mimicked me and had her head bent to the side also, as if to say 'and what in all seven hells have they come as?'

I giggled at the Direwolf, and placed a hand on her while I addressed the ladies gasping.

"you need not fear; Faith is quite tame, and she won't do you no harm."

I smiled in good measure to try and reassure their faint hearts, and they continued in their walk as a close knitted pack, with the one at the forefront trying to be discreet as they went by me:

"it was not the Direwolf we were concerned with."

They stifled some giggles, with their unscathed hands delicately touching their lips and I let them pass as I knelt down besides Faith, whose mouth was stained crimson from her hunt, and it didn't look so threatening now, but with her fangs bared…

I swore we could read each other's minds, and the animals eyes glinted as I jerked my head in the southerner's direction, and off like an arrow she shot and snapped her snarling mouth at them, turning a couple of gasps, into pure screaming.

"and so you ladies were right in feeling that way."

I chuckled, calling to Faith who was swift at encaging the beast, to where you wouldn't believe she was capable of such a terrible display as the one she had just demonstrated, and I couldn't help but shower her with praise, making her tail wag furiously.

However, a chill ran down both our spines, when we turned to find my mother standing behind us, with a face like thunder.

"we can either do this here, or in your room…your choice daughter."

Faith's whines were now of fear and I made a similar noise myself, all the way to a more private area, where my mother could scream at me all she wished.

The door rattled shut behind her, and Faith scampered straight under the bed, while I mouthed the introduction to Catelyn Stark's rant, throwing my back down and trying to muffle her voice by recalling all I did with Lucan earlier in this very same bed.

"what on earth were you thinking!"

…..

The heated, and very much so, one sided discussion ended, and I flung open the windows to relish in the night air, which had a distinct bite to it that I appreciated, and suddenly there was a tuneful chap on the other side of my door, which didn't need to wait for a reply, or my asking who it was.

"Leona?"

A skinny thing, we sisters resembled each other now by how downcast we were.

"not you as well."

Arya's bony shoulder shrugged, while she was biting her nails, which she chewed red and sore, "apparently it's not appropriate to storm out of the sowing room and make a scene before the princess Marcella."

My eyes smiled, and I braced another cold wind, sighing, "the king too apparently…who knew, aye?"

She giggled and closed the distance to sit as near to me as she could, while perched on the bed.

"you know; mother says I grow more and more like you each day."

I grunted, "you should take it as a compliment."

Of course she would say something along those lines; for the gods knew we had never actually gotten along, with her convinced that my wilful ways were just my way of tormenting her, as if I would have a personal vendetta against my own mother.

She was maddening, and the only reason she might think that way, is because of all the high expectations she has had of me since birth, which I refuse to meet, preferring instead to meet one's of my own making, and to quote her 'that is simply not how a daughter should behave.' Thus, I couldn't help be gladdened at the thought I may be influencing Arya to follow in my lead.

"that's the problem," she exclaimed, lifting her thick, dark brows, "I already do."

When I became an older sibling, father had warned me how everything I did now was bound to be seen by someone, and make an impression too. The thought, admittedly, escaped me now and then, but with Arya, she was the person who kept reminding me, when she said things like this, the duty I had in setting an example for her, and everyone else.

Sansa, Bran, Rickon…

They looked to me, to help shape them; and so did Robb and Jon sometimes need my input in things when they were confused, or in need of reassurance.

True I made mistakes, but they can be learned from, and I was proud of who I had to call brothers and sisters, for I loved them all dearly.

So the Gods help whoever tries to lay a finger on them!

"come here."

Wrapping her in my arms, Arya snuggled into my side and I pulled her backwards, so we were staring up at the ceiling.

"-I want to be with someone civilised before the feast."

We both feeling each other's every breath, our chests rose and fell in the calming embrace, and her hands clenched tighter, knowing I was the ear that would listen, while she was perfectly guarded from anyone who might want to judge her.

"do you think there's something wrong with us?" Arya asked, "I mean…most girls dream of being ladies like us."

 _'_ _and both you and I could do without the honour?'_

I nestled my chin atop her earthy brown hair, and momentarily the encounter I had with those pampered southern birds flashed before my eyes.

"yeah well most girls are idiots."

She giggled, but my answer didn't best please the part of her that was being serious and I angled myself to look her in eye.

"don't forget Arya; we're ladies, true, but the Starks are more than just a noble family; our bloodline is the very history of the North; a wild and free place."

Another breeze swirled about the room.

"If anything; we're the ones who still remain true to our roots, but it's just that the world has changed, by no will or fault of our own…And yet; we can only be who we are. Remember that."

Arya had a great ability, being someone willing to understand things.

When I spoke to her, she did not interrupt or jump into the sentence, trying to predict how I might finish it. Instead, she waited and took to heart the lesson intended to be taught, something which many supposed adults, cannot do.

So I had no fear for how she shall handle herself in the future.

She a wise little wolf pup, and also how she shall defend herself too.

"by the way," I started, while I remembered, "I saw Lucan taking that sword off of you."

Arya grinned up at me proudly, since evidently, it wasn't any secret of ours, that she had a hankering to fight and I might have myself on one occasion, shown her what Lucan had me, in regards to the workings of a bow and arrow, to best Bran during his target practice.

Jumping to her feet, she demonstrated the moves she had inflicted on a tree, Making the mattress bounce beneath her feet, which a tired Faith had objected to with a bark.

Her arm swift and fast, Arya may well be Rodrick's best pupil and he didn't even know it.

"you know, Lucan said you used to do the same when you were about my age-"

I nodded, able to think back on all those years as if it were yesterday, when it was that I used to stand before the single Weirwood tree, whose carven face would be forced to endure my great show of being a warrior, pledging to the old Gods, to succeed in the endeavour.

"-and he said you stopped; why?"

I flinched involuntarily.

A girl, I was in fact, even younger than Arya, with determination burning within me.

However, one day as I held the wooden sword out in pledge again. My chest heaving from the workout, and muscles aching, the rustling of the red leaves, the sole sound besides myself, chose to slowly fade away.

And then there was nothing.

Not even my feet, as I moved, scraped along the dirt, and I wondered if I had gone deaf.

Panic began to set in; and just as I thought to scream, someone else had beaten me to it, or rather two men, and they frightened me half to death, because of how piercing their cries were.

Two men rivalling each other, though one was more haggard, like he was choking, and I swore there was a clink of chains too, as they faded to be replaced by a woman's tears.

Frantically, I searched for any cause or explanation behind what I was experiencing, knowing that my lips were asking the necessary questions, when still the woman's crying drown me out and as she continued, a clanging there came, of iron against iron, just as my eyes locked onto the hollow Weirwood's.

Such a weight of loss overcame me…

as well as the smell of blood.

My training sword, it might as well have burned me, for I dropped the thing straight into the black pool and for a thing of wood, it sunk right down to the bottom, putting an end to the terrible sounds.

No one knew this story.

Not even Lucan.

In fact, I was so afraid of it still, that at night, I would wake up screaming unable to recall the images which would in my dreams match the sounds.

After that day…I never did touch a sword; wooden or iron.

And nor did I ever want to.

"…I don't know; I just got bored, I suppose."


	6. Chapter 6

Though my father does not condone it, he was too busy trying to pretend he was enjoying himself to really notice that I was well on the way of consuming my fourth cup of wine.

Not that impressive to say the least, it was nonetheless much more than what Eddard Stark allowed his children to drink at such occasions as a feast and I felt daring, as if I could go up another number, and get myself a fifth.

After the events of today, I thought I deserved to drink myself into a sweet oblivion having done as mother asked, under threat of course, earlier during my scolding and been a part of the procession into the great hall without any trouble.

Okay, I might not have paired myself with Prince Joffrey as was expected, eldest daughter beside eldest son and all that, but Sansa was more than happy to take my place, while I poorly summoned as many excuses as I could to stay clear of the golden haired prat. Fortunately, as my father walked the queen and my mother the king, my littlest brother was recoiling in fear of being among strangers without his parents to turn to, and he became my reason to snub Prince Joffrey. Coming in last, behind my family and their royal partners, I had sent Bran ahead of Rickon and myself, to inspire the young lad to follow his brothers footsteps, However, he wasn't willing to leave my shadow.

The most timid, even for his young age, I did feel pity for my youngest sibling, seeing as I was a woman grown and could relate very well to his revulsion at a vast number of eyes turning in his direction.

I could think of no tricks or promises to urge him away from behind my skirts, but as I stared out at the hall, I refused to let them get the better of Rickon and side stepped to expose him to them.

A chick shivering having strayed from beneath its mother's feathers, he tremored slightly, with his eyes frantic until I reassured him of my support with an elegant curtsy, addressing him by title, and a wish I proclaimed loudly, for him to escort me into the Hall.

Though some gushed over us, my mother, having taken her seat at the high table, resisted a glare similar to the queen's, who couldn't mask hers at all, and yet I couldn't care, not when I saw the bashful excitement replace my brothers fear, and proudly he held his head high, reaching up to keep his hand perched on my arm. From a distance it must have been an amusing spectacle, but I would do it all again.

Music blaring, I wondered when the last time was that the Great hall had been so crowded, though I doubted it had ever been this rowdy, with the King making himself known above all else, sat on a table I thought he might break, cheering at anyone or anything, as long as it meant he could take a hearty swig from his goblet. When he wasn't doing that, his tongue was no sooner down some poor woman's throat, though they never looked none too repelled by him, since he wore a crown, and it appeared that this king knew nothing more than to drink and fuck.

Was he like this even before he was crowned? If so it was a mystery how my father could befriend such a man.

I suppose the strains of a kingdom residing on your shoulders was a stressful responsibility, making you seek comfort in spoils such as food, drink and flesh and yet I couldn't imagine this man charging towards Prince Rhaegar, to beat him in battle. Sure, the prince committed a terrible crime against my family, but between the foes, I would have found the Dragon a much more appealing victor compared with this bloated Stag before me.

And yet, he had lost love.

My Aunt Lyanna was his betrothed, stolen and raped they say, so my judgment was unfair when sorrow could warp the best of people into something monstrous, making them a shadow of their former selves. I couldn't say if Lyanna loved Robert, I did not know her and Lord Eddard rarely spoke about his sister, but even if it was one sided, I believe that Roberts downfall was justified, for I knew if I lost Lucan, there would be no point in living.

Skimming around the room, I couldn't tell if I kept missing him, or if he was basking in another corner. Unlike me, Lucan could thrive in nearly every social gathering, creating fun if there was none in the first place, and wherever he was, Robb wouldn't be far behind along with Theon, but that didn't settle me in the least for they would only encourage Lucan to indulge on his mischievous ways, and with many southern guards strutting around, I doubted my love could resist knocking them down with some challenge or another.

Admittedly, despite the trouble his behaviour risked if I was correct in my assumption, I could not deny the amusement I would find at the sight where we northerners bested a pretty, unscathed knight, and as I tapped the side of my cup, I set it down on a nearby table, and worked towards finding him.

Casually meandering, I smiled at the slight waddle of my feet, learning that I was a light weight when it came to wine and other drinks of its kind, inclining my head in regard for those of my father's household that bowed as I passed, acknowledging them by name.

"Rory," I said to one of the younger men that would spar with my brothers, "have you seen…Robb anywhere?"

I had to say my brothers name, less the guardsman find it suspicious I asked for Lucan while in a state such as I was, and as I presumed before, my lover would likely be with him.

"Just over there, my Lady."

He pointed to a far off corner tucked away nearer at the front of the hall, where I had worked myself down from, to be rid of my mother's watchful eye.

"Ah, thank you."

The hour was growing late, soon Lady Catelyn would retire I hoped, but before I came close to her again, I spotted a pitcher and beamed, needing a boost of inspiration to help me channel an air of endurance, over my otherwise annoyed character.

Arm stretched out, I snagged it before anyone else could, shocked it was just half empty, until I happened to lift my gaze at the figure it had been set before.

The burnt man I had seen saddled on the courser at the court yard, who I have since learnt the name of; his foul attitude must have kept everyone away as he still wore the same scowl he had met my gaze with then.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" Swirling the pitcher to freshen it a bit, I searched the table, still not relenting to his need to intimidate me and saw no more than empty platters cradling the bones of animals.

Regretting setting my own down that I wasn't willing to fetch, I remarked at the lack of cups tediously, not noticing when Clegane reached across where he sat and snatched the pitcher back from me.

Drinking right from it, the inviting crimson wine spilt from either side of his face, keeping his focus on me, while he used the back of his hand to wipe the moisture when he was done.

"I have no need for cups."

 _'_ _Goodness! A sentence from him rather than the expected grunt or growl_ ,' I snorted.

I'm sure he wished to repulse me, but damn if I wasn't thirsty.

"Well in that case-"

I grabbed the thin neck of the clay jug; since it was the only part he didn't have a solid hold over and yanked it back. His black eyes bore into mine, while I tipped the edge of the pitcher up, making the action tidy, until I had taken my fill, and then using my sleeve I ran it around my mouth, satisfied enough that I smacked the thing back down again.

I could have been pleased with myself knowing I was probably the only woman to have ever projected a true tenacity that didn't come with a queenly title, rather than cowering from him, but I didn't. I didn't pride myself in it because this wasn't a stretch of personality; this was my norm, and I pitied the cretin for assuming I would fall in line with the rest of the many sweet ladies of Westeros.

I was a Stark. We are ever vigilant to the changing of winds, where warmth turns to cold. We are under no illusion and are highly aware of the harshness of reality, since happiness can be fleeting and bring a darker period into our lives.

On top of that, I was also Leona, and there are worse things I fear besides someone of mere flesh and blood; and I would never allow anyone to make me cower.

"Forgive me my Lady, but it has been asked that you present Sansa to the queen."

If the maid hadn't the confidence to touch my arm while she whispered, I would have scarcely heard her. Mousey brown hair, a pale complexion flushed, she was one of my mother's maids, thus the request must have come from her.

"Sansa?" I asked and was replied with a nod.

Truly after the antics of Arya and I, since her arrival, the queen must think this a last ditch effort to have at least one stark girl wrapped round her finger and she would find none better suited to that than my already star struck sister.

In that case I was perfectly sure Sansa would be able to do her own introductions to the monarch, but seeing as she hadn't come of age yet, it was only proper I chaperone her and I trusted the maid to lead me to her as I parted from the Hound.

"- Enjoy the rest of your evening, Clegane."

A mockery of a curtsy, it was made so from my knowing it would make the Hound uncomfortable. Boldly, I dared him from this encounter to the next, try and perceive me for what I am not again.

* * *

The maid only took me so far. As I recalled her name to memory, I also remembered that she was indeed a timid young thing, a daughter of one of my mother's favourite companions who has not long died, and as I thought grief might still be close to her heart, I told her that she may go where she is comfortable, as the sounds of bets being made in a game of drinking might have been too much for her.

By the look on her face she was relieved and I smiled kindly at her as she scuttled away when the next uproar erupted and without her head blocking my vision, I was not surprised in the least when it was Lucan with his head thrown back, downing whatever it was Robb and Theon were putting in front of him, as another man in Lannister colours, struggled to keep up.

I watched entertained as the drinking continued and as the minutes passed and still Lucan refused to stop, I'll admit I was about ready to charge full force towards where their spectacle was taking place and scold every last one of them, only as my face soured it was wiped clean with a laugh when my lovers competition, turned a vulgar shade of green.

The whole table seemed to wait in breath at what would happen next and as most of the men before the Lannister guard began to duck in cover, it was ultimately his friends on either side of him the southerner began vomiting on, much to their disgust, crowning Lucan the winner.

Cheers were heard all around and as Lucan raised his arms in victory, he spun to bask in the admiration of the crowd surrounding him, which was how he noticed me, at last.

My disapproval made him falter in his step, but as he peered at me through his drunken haze, it was more than obvious that I could not deny my pride in him either, despite my trying my best to do so, and the bastard actually smirked gleefully, reminding me of when he was a boy and the cook would chase him out of the kitchens, having just stolen something hard laboured over.

His expression was enough to make my lips twitch and I chuckled again at the fool I would make a husband, with wine and ale dampening his tunic.

I envied his freedom to be a fool when it suited him. To be fearless in whatever it was he did with his life and regret nothing.

Lucan Cassel knew who he was, accepted it, and would never try to be anything else. There was no charade with him and you could either love or hate him for it, being that it was an aspect many envied him for if they could not find it in themselves to be as he is.

My Lucan was a precious being; I would give my life for him and I was part of those who envied as well, for I did not know such freedom as he did, since if it was by my will I would go to him now and embrace his bearded lips on mine, However, I was a Lady; and the queen and my mother waited on me.

A tether between us, I could practically feel it tighten when I walked towards my sister rather than he, keeping my focus on the young girl as I approached to stop myself from turning back.

Sansa perched on a wooden bench with her back perfectly straight, she was whispering sweetly into Jayne Pooles ear, the way young girls often do, and I wondered if I had ever been that young, as the many years I've spent living what almost felt like a double life, crept in to make me feel tired… old.

Whatever they said to one another, it made the girls giggle but it caught me unawares, since I knew my sisters true laugh and it was hardly as tuneful as the sound she was making, as it was too controlled compared to the chortle I had once witnessed that caused milk to come out the girls nose.

I spied that it was all for show, when I followed where it was Sansa continuously peaked up at.

Seated not too far away from her, the prince stared at Sansa with an oily smirk plastered on his feline face, turning my stomach since her actions fed into his ego, as if he were doing her a favour by being present to ogle the way she was doing.

I was protective of my siblings. All of them; and as a bystander to this, I felt a surge of anger because as I draw breath, Joffrey Baratheon would never be worthy of my sister, even if she could not see it as blindsided by his crown as she was, for I would sooner have her flirt with a dog rather than this poor excuse of a boy, let alone a prince.

My hand cupping her shoulder, I leant down, "Sansa, mother wants you."

The girl's bright blue eyes sparkled, as she exchanged looks between me and where lady Catelyn was situated beside the lioness, putting two and two together.

I had not removed my hold on her shoulder and steered towards them, while she fretted over her dress. The blue wool wasn't rich like silk, but it was a creation she had put aside months ago and just this afternoon hauled out of a chest to continue embroidering and her skill would put many dressmakers to shame.

"Don't worry yourself Sansa, you look beautiful."

She blushed at my compliment but not for my giving her one, only that she knew that I spoke true, as beauty was just one of the few attributes Sansa had been taught to believe were necessary for a woman to possess, alongside grace, piety, a talent for singing and whatever else Septa Mordane convinced her charges to aspire in accomplishing.

I wonder if Sansa was left well enough alone to discover her talents for herself, who it is she would be at this very moment. However, I couldn't ignore how my youngest sister and I were in the very same environment and upbringing, as well as faced the same expectations as Sansa, and yet we did not give in to what society categorized us into being as women.

My father blamed it on what he called 'the wolfs' blood,' in which case, Sansa was like our mother in more ways than just physicality, and would find that her southern heritage was far more potent in her veins than it was in her siblings, who scarcely had a drop of it at all.

Nonetheless, we were a family; so as Sansa came before Cersei, for what felt like an inspection, I refused to lose my grip on her shoulder as my instincts screamed for me to protect such a highly influential girl as my sister from this queen of hardened stone, who if she was anyone else, someone would have bound to tell her before now 'that it wouldn't kill her to crack a smile,' as she battled to keep from telling Catelyn to save her small talk for someone who actually cares. I know the look. I have worn it well, these last seventeen years.

"Hello little dove."

Such a sweet endearment, but the queen's tongue stopped before she gave any further judgment. I could see the wheels in her head turning, as each thought flittered to mind.

A dove indeed; if it were I she called such a thing, I would take insult the same as she, if I would connect her to any other animal besides a lion. Even now, it was the Lannister sigel embroidered on Cersei's long elegant sleeves and not the Baratheon stag she married into, despite that being the actual royal name.

"But you are a beauty. How old are you?"

Sansa was well equipped to recite her words perfectly when addressing a queen, as if they were scripted, but I think the key thing was to remain endearing and respectful.

I could feign endearment well enough. It was the respect I would struggle with, since it was in my opinion that you had to earn it, no matter your title, or whether or not your father shits gold, as is said about the mighty Tywin.

"Thirteen, your grace."

Cersei's green eyes followed my sister's frame from head to toe, "You're tall. Still growing?"

I forced a sarcastic comment to stay at bay and swallowed it with a deep breath.

if my sister was to go by what people had taught her to do, then perhaps so should I take heed of Septa Mordane's advice to me since childhood and I would answer back when my skirts were 'disappointingly' fringed with mud after a long ride.

 **'** **Be silent and endure, if you cannot submit.'**

It did often suit certain situations, and I have found that I too repeat the same thing to Arya when nature struggles over expectation.

"I think so your grace."

"…And have you bled yet."

I had lost interest in the blur of Cersei's face as the conversation had droned on, but that was an interesting thing to say to a young girl. Something that will cause embarrassment to Sansa surely, as you're first blood is a time you become a woman in some opinion, as it is then you can bear a child, but the blood means nothing.

To become a mother is a gift, but it is not the sole thing that defines a woman; for I am sure there are many out there without children and I would not think them any less.

A girl and a woman are of different breeds…

And I suppose it is to have your eyes unveiled from the storms, which the world can throw your way; and instead of cowering, you realise that you are ready to meet them head on.

Sansa, has yet to do that and a part of me is scared she never shall, whereas Arya; seven hells I think she'll make her own storms.

"No your grace."

My thumb stroked where it lay on her back, to comfort and ease Sansa's nerves as I knew that the queen's remark would have found its sore spot, since it's often said that a noble lady would have her blood early; but that is only so she can rail in a rich enough husband, with the promise of sons.

"And your dress, did you make it? Such talent, you must make something for me"

Sansa beamed as the queen played with her, following the hurt by a compliment to keep the enchantment alive, testing the waters to see if she could get away with it, and judging by the giddy skip to Sansa's step as she took her leave, Cersei certainly could do no wrong where she was concerned.

The same could not be said for me.

"Quiet this evening, Lady Leona."

The lioness had caught me as I was about to descend the small steps that led to the head table, to keep it above the rest of the hall. Excitedly, Sansa had already rushed back to Jayne's side to tell her of the experience and without excuse, I pretended that her stopping me this far was no deliberate action.

"Here! So I may look at you as well."

I exchanged a glance with my mother, who I could tell was trying to salvage some excuse or another to allow me to escape for my benefit as well as hers, but any attempt on her half was waved aside by the queen as she leant forwards.

"How strange your eyes are. They would be; almost eerie…"

In truth, I was taken aback by the abrupt comment, seeing that Cersei's pride was easily wounded if this was because I snubbed her son for my kid brother. She must want to put me in my place, less I move any further from where she liked her puppets to rest.

My hair was concealed thanks to the dull flame of candle light, come an hour as late as this. Appearing black most likely; but my eyes could not be ignored.

Little does the queen know, that they were not my weakness to make me tremble. In a mirror there was no oddity. It was just my face. Although, that didn't mean I couldn't torment people with their own thoughts about them.

I fluttered my eyelashes and touched the side of my head, as if I could actually feel the difference in the two.

"Indeed, I have heard them being referred to in a way where one colour regards you as you stand-"

I blocked the grey with one hand, to add some theatrics, and then did so with the blue.

"-and the other, looks past **into** the person."

I squinted, as if I had done just that, biting my bottom lip amused, "hmm, I bid you a joyous night your majesty!"

Sansa gave a merry dance when Cersei pulled her strings.

Fortunately, there are no such instruments attached to my limbs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Starting this chapter off, I just need to say that I am sorry it has taken so long for me to update. However, I am not someone who can write a story if I am not inspired; otherwise I'd be doing my OC characters, as well as George R. R. Martins, an injustice, as it would you followers also. In any case, I hope you enjoy Leona's journey as it takes a step further.**

 **Thank you.**

* * *

It was a slow stir from my sleep.

A twinge in the pit of my stomach, which grew to rouse me along with it, until I could not ignore the throbbing any longer. Gripping where the knot was tightening in my abdomen, the other hand also squeezed the pillow I had planted my face in. I could not understand how I had spent however how long, smashed against it and turned to take in a deep breath, instantly hit by the scents of stale sweat, liquor and smoke.

Those scents combined were like I had been met by the impact of the ground after falling a great height and I begged for mercy as a sensation started to slowly progress up my throat, and I could only pant in expectation for the inevitable.

 _"_ _Why is she scrunched up like that?"_

I hadn't managed to clarify my thoughts yet beyond trying not to be sick, but those words, whispered as they were, became as loud as a horn in my ear.

 _"_ _She looks…green."_

Something poked at my left cheek, making me groan monstrously.

 _"_ _Old nan says that when you drink too much, you get slow, clumsy and that goblins prey on people with their guard down and inhabit their bodies, wishing to take control of them."_

 _Another few pokes._

 _"_ _Do you think Leona has a goblin inside her?"_

 _"_ _What is a goblin Bran?"_

 _"_ _I don't know, but look at what it's done to Leona."_

 _"_ _Leona hasn't got a goblin inside her, stupid!"_

 _"_ _How do you know!"_

As the bickering persisted and blurred together to hammer at my skull, I carefully pried open an eyelid and shut it again fast, scrunching my face so that I may very well look like the old crow who told my siblings all those stories.

"Old nan says a lot of things now, doesn't she…" I croaked, licking my dry lips.

Talking was more than I could bear, and I swear that just from the sunbeam to have hit me, as one of my younger siblings must have opened the curtains, I could actually feel my brain melting.

"Are you okay Leona?"

I sighed and lifted the pillow out from under me to rest over my head, casting half my face in shadow, so I could look out at my room and not wish for death when the sun hit me.

Rickon was standing on his little legs, perching his chin on his hands as he leant on the mattress, while Bran and Arya were knelt on the bed, being the culprits for the poking, with Faith in the middle.

All four of them were gawking at me, as if I was some creature they had never seen before and honestly, I was amazed that I could string out a few sentences.

"That truly remains to be seen."

Blinking furiously at the sting of exhaustion, my vision became clearer for it and I rubbed the crust from the corners of my eyes to finish the job, daring to stretch my body. Luckily, it didn't trigger a spasm of sickness and as I lay in wait for the sensation that never came, I did for good measure scream into the pillow I had made a shield.

It was a good thing that my frustrations were muffled into the feathered cushion. Those at myself, the hangover pains, and of last night's dealings with the royal court, because it set me up nicely to take on the day that I could not ignore, however how much I wished to and I did not hold back.

My throat felt as though it was being torn apart, and I thought that it could only work in my favour, because if I lost my voice, then how could I possibly carry out my duties and converse with our 'honoured' guests.

The idea had merit, but it did not last. Worrying for me, Faith began to howl prompting the other pups to follow suit, and wherever they were loitered about Winterfell, as I hadn't seen any present with their owners, we could hear them, loud and clear.

Like a strong wind gusting through the stone corridors, my siblings and I looked all around in wonder, as if the sounds vibrations were something we could see, dancing around us.

Their howls were hauntingly beautiful, and inspired by them, I winked at Rickon, who was bouncing excitedly on his toes, then as I drew my mouth in an 'O' shape, I mimicked the creature that was the Stark sigel.

Despite my imitation being a poor one, that didn't make it any less fun and it was not the first time, I had fancied myself a Direwolf, although that was many years ago, when I was closer in age to Bran over Arya and Rickon.

Since our interpretations of Faith's call were distinctive from her own, she soon realised that I was okay from my earlier screams and relieved, attacked me with her tongue.

While it lapped the salty sweat from my skin, I pushed her furry shoulders, trying to force her at bay, but even at the size she was, not fully grown, the pup was still much stronger than I, so all I could do was toss and turn my head, in order to try and avoid her pink, wet tongue.

"Alright, alright!" I chided, just as Robb came into the room, turning the attention to him.

"What's going on in here!"

Following by my example, the youngest trio of our family had joined in chasing each other in circles and confusing Faith, as her head spun with them and at the new voice, the youngest Starks turned where Robb was standing in the doorway of my room.

"Robb, were Direwolves!" cried Rickon, snapping as menacingly as he could at his brothers heels.

"So you are."

Smiling, my eldest sibling was without so much as a slight arch to his back, with the weight of last night's antics pushing down on him. Fresh faced, it was strange to see him without at least some stubble roughening his cheeks after mother ordered the weather worn Northmen to pretty themselves up.

Strangely while they giggled with glee another sensation consumed me, one I thought to have beaten and before I could ask if the room was off balance to anyone else, I leapt up on my naked feet and dashed over to the one thing I could relieve my stomach in, grateful that I hadn't used it at all last night, in the form of a chamber pot, heaving the contents of everything I had consumed from the morning before and since.

As I filled the clay pot practically to the brim, there was a combination of laughter and disgust happening behind me, and mercy would have it that Robb ushered the children away, but my humiliation had done its damage and I doubt I would ever hear the end of it from them.

"That's it," Robb soothed, taking pity as he rubbed my back slowly remembering my child like hatred of sickness, "its best just to get it all out."

I really didn't have a choice in the matter and as the last of my heaving was done, it was like my body had gone into shock. I remained frozen at the one spot, clutching the pot in a death grip, as if it was the only thing keeping me conscious.

I was still and at the same time spinning around the room, until the guiding hand of my brother brought me back to the edge of the bed.

"Here, Measter Luwin gave me this."

Crouching so I wouldn't have to strain my neck, a small glass tickled my mouth, encouraging me to drink the colourless liquid and I sneered at the idea of filling my stomach up again, to have a repeat of the brutal sickness I just expelled.

"I know you don't want to, but it should help settle your pains."

I glared at him, thankful the potion didn't hit me with any fragrance, "have you indulged in any of it?"

The question was an accusation, "gods, you drank about the same, if not more than I…it's not fair."

I whined and pinched my fingers between my brows, the slight rise in my voice stabbing me in the head with the memory of my jesting with he, Theon and Lucan soon after my encounter with the 'meanie queenie', a nickname I caught Rickon naming the lioness, that I haven't shaken my amusement from.

He chuckled, "I can handle it, you can't; drink."

No scent or a taste, it made drinking the liquid easier and I lifted the empty vile up in gratitude, despite the lingering sourness in my mouth, which must have been clear as I ran my tongue over my textured teeth and grimaced.

"I also brought this."

A moments action of going back into the corridor and returning, he carried a fresh basin of water, with a cloth floating atop it and set it down on my lap causing my to have an unsavoury look at my reflection.

"Exactly what are you trying to say?" I joked, lifting the cloth and running it over my face quickly to rid me of the slick feeling on my face.

"That the kennels smell better than you do about right now."

I flicked the cloth to splatter him and he barely dodged it.

"A real charmer you are; I reckon that without the nuisance of arranged marriages you'd get yourself a wifey all by yourself with those skills. However, I'm afraid dear mother probably has one already in mind for her dear Robbie, when she's finished selling Sansa off"

Robb narrowed his eyes at my mentioning of Sansa's possible union and turned to the window as I retreated behind my practitioner to finish washing and drag something clean on.

"Very funny" he droned dryly, sharing the same opinion of such arrangements as I did, "but I know for a fact she wouldn't tell anyone but father of such things."

'Close call' I snorted to myself, running the cloth down either leg to finish off and seizing a dress I'd put out beforehand, since he really meant that he knew for a fact that I'd be the last person lady Catelyn would tell anything to, because I am also the last of her children she did actually want to have a conversation with, since we couldn't say more than two words to each other without having a full blown argument.

"Either way," I brushed my thoughts off, pushing my arms through the wool sleeves, "what might I expect at this summons from our lady mother?"

There was a long pause, which made me stop, curiously waiting on a reply.

"It's not her who's requested your presence."

"No?" I questioned surprised, having cheeked her majesty with the description of my eyes, "then what could father possibly want."

It was more a statement since any poor behaviour was a matter left best to our mother until it was beyond hope and he deems the role of peacemaker between us. Yet, on this occasion he is skipping a step and going straight to just dealing with me, being the parent I tend to listen to, since he makes more sense.

Lifting my streaked hair out from my collar and buttoning the tight frock up, I targeted Robb's back until I could see him squirm under my scrutiny.

"You know something; and you're telling me."

"All dressed," he pressed on, pretending I hadn't said anything, "well then, I'll escort you. Gives me a chance to make sure there's no proof of your drinking left, you know how father feels about that."

Robb poked my shoulder and admittedly I wobbled slightly, but he caught my elbow while my hand did his head and chuckling we walked towards the room father passed as his council chamber beyond the great hall, where he preferred to meet people one to one.

Walking in comfortable silence, that didn't mean I wasn't annoyed by my chaperone, having never needed one before after escaping septa Mordane's clutched a few years ago.

"Has Winterfell fallen under construction since I slept, because I'm quite sure I know where father's room is?"

He was prepared for my remarks, and glanced at the obvious southerners lingering around speaking only to each other in quiet, hushed tones that made you wonder what they could possibly be talking about, as most around Winterfell could hear conversations happening at the other side of the castle, as none really knew the meaning of quiet tones.

"Its best I follow you, there's a lot of strange faces here."

"None would dare anything being guests under our roof and accompanying the kin on top of that. Although, I can't say he's much of a role model."

I recalled his fascination with one of the kitchen maids he had straddling his lap, burying his face in her buxom bosom while she cackled with delight, that made my stomach do another sickly churn as their forms morphed into two rounded pink pigs, which I was unsure would make Robb laugh or go pale with revulsion as it did me.

"Tell me something," I asked out of interest, aware of my own disappointment at the image of King Robert, "if you could go back in time as children when you used to proclaim yourself as the Baratheon king, knowing about him what you do now, would you not shout another name in play?"

"Leona..." noble Robb cautioned under his breath.

"You are in a serious mood" I noted, "One might say you put even father to shame."

True Robb did not look like Ned Stark but he sounded just like him. Only, I knew it was all a recital of words and phrases he had so keenly paid close attention to, whenever father has in the past spoke and commanded attention by the wisdom behind his voice. Ned stark had set a high standard for his heir to live up to and I pitied Robb for the pressure it must put on him, for the northerners were a grim and hard sort of folk and you didn't get their loyalty just by entitlement or blood. You had to bloody well earn the right and if ever you faltered, they would be quick and blunt to tell you, so you had to make sure you never were. **Truth** was an honour that the northerners put into daily practice; the southerners, not so much.

"I see Rodrick has got the full archery out on display."

Up a floor, we could gaze down at the courtyard where racks of bows of a variety were laid out and the dogs were barking with excitement.

"Oh, yes; the king commanded further entertainment of a hunt. We've more game here, with more meat on their bones to keep out the cold than the warm south."

I giggled, "Hmm, I did notice the invaders were quick to swap their fine silks for thick furs."

Jutting my chin at a group I was referring to I continued, "Although, they have taken it a little too far and some look even more beastly than king Robert does naturally. I hope none are mistaken for such creatures and find an arrow heading in their direction, or at least… if that does happen, make sure it's the prince. Mother might protest, but I swear you'll earn my allegiance and that of those who have met the royal prick by the act. "

his blue eyes wide in their sockets, if his lips hadn't a slight upward turn at the corners I may have ran, it's just that he looked completely stunned; still having known me for so long he was actually stunned.

"I'll, umm…keep that in mind."

I nodded, taken aback by his reaction, waiting on a scolding that never came though he followed me still utterly transfixed by my audacity. Yet, with father's door before me, I hesitated and called for my brother before he could leave me.

"Robb; what am I to expect when I walk through this door?"

His features softened and if I read deeper into his body language, I swore there was an air of sympathy about him that gripped me, until finally he answered me, the only way he figured he could.

"Change."

* * *

Why did I allow lovers' words blind me from a legitimate fear?

This was no fault of Lucan's. only I was better than to allow sweet promises sway me into naive ignorance, quelling the shadows that haunted me with a fantasy's light, as he spoke of how we could face whatever force together; and yet where that would be the only way I would selfishly want to confront the darkness in this world; if it meant that I would witness his suffering, as well as in others I cared about, as a price; to wallow in loneliness out ruled the support I would find in my lover and family, if it meant that they would be spared.

Since the royal court's arrival, I cursed every smile and laughter on my half, as they worked to bury deep the threat I had been aware lurked over Winterfell and my family. Disgusted, I have done nothing to prevent what I could have stopped happening, desperately fighting for my father to see sense in the foolishness of the king's desire, thwarting the very man who was too lazy to run his own kingdom that he needed to enslave my father to the duty.

My father was not made to live in an environment where every decision also was a decider on how far your life was at risk. There was a reason that at the end of the rebellion he did not take the throne, a reason why there has not been a day gone by that he hasn't been burdened by a gut wrenching guilt.

Because to him; everything my father has, was not his by any right.

He believed that he was walking the footsteps of his dead brother Brandon, who would have inherited Winterfell and my mother in Eddard stark's place, being that he was first born.

Misfortune changed my father's fate and he despaired for the circumstances behind it and with the death of lord Arryn; to be taken to the place where his father and brother were brutally murdered… it would only twist the dagger in his heart that already was implanted there assuming roles and duties he wasn't meant for, despite his capable hands.

Fates surprises have not favoured my family.

Peaceful, happy, we could continue on this way; and yet, my father was willing to take the plunge I dreaded. He was the core of our house, if he falls so do we all and as I confessed to Lucan, that it would not be a smooth descend.

Since my childhood, the ring of iron against iron has plagued me, as was the scent of blood. The Weirwood tree allowed me this warning, seeping into the places we go when sleeping; and here, I have done _nothing_!

"…Leona."

The lord of Winterfell had at some point reached out and grasped my icy hands. My blood had been running cold since Robb muttered that terrible word and I couldn't remember walking from the door to the chair opposite my father, behind his desk. In that long, northern drawn out way he had of explaining things he didn't want to say, especially when he didn't want them to be true, he had I suppose in the midst of it explained his decision to ride out to Kingslanding; however, my ears had not captured his voice.

I didn't need to listen when I already knew what he was going to tell me.

"Leona."

My father shook my hand gently, bringing me out from my inner thoughts and I saw him finally. An honourable and devoted heart hidden beneath a solemn face, I couldn't understand why people would say his gaze was a cold one. In his eyes, grey like at least one of mine, his story was as clear as those written down on paper. Love lost; pains of war; that guilt I spoke of and the sole happiness in his family he didn't think he deserved. These attributes to his character have aged him far beyond his years, making it impossible for me to scream at him.

In truth my lips trembled at the desire to rage against his choice to leave; but I couldn't, for my father was never gifted with choice. There was always more behind a tale, even if he will not share it with me and it was my knowing of that factor that stopped me being angry at Eddard stark and made me sympathize with him instead.

"I suppose," my mouth was dry due to my long silence, rasping, "I am to join you."

It was a hesitant nod, "you; the girls and Bran."

"he'd be pleased at the chance to see the kings guard in full swing."

My attempt to make light out of the situation failed at the tears gathering, causing me to tighten my grip on my father's hand as if his touch will keep them at bay, except the emotion was too strong and I sobbed, caging the sound behind the hand I had free with a buckle of my shoulders.

"My sweet girl, come 'ere"

I shook my head vigorously, frantically trying to appear stronger than I was, jumping to my feet and backing away.

"No, no, I'm fine!"

Inwardly, a pressure was amounting in my stomach trying to make me keel over, "I just need…"

 _'_ _Air,'_ my mind screamed, _'you need_ _ **air.**_ _'_

Staring at the view in the window, the land past Winterfell's high walls, my father followed my dazed glare.

"Go Leona," he bade, sighing deeply at where our conversation had led, and no sooner said, I was gone.


End file.
